"Behold, what you prophesied has come to pass, those who began the war along with us now continue the war against us. Remember that you held out the promise of joining us when such a time came; fulfil your promise."
Feriz Beg got this letter early in the morning, and the moment after he had read it he ordered his stableman instantly to saddle his war-charger, he chose from among his swords those which smote the heaviest, exchanged his grey mantle for a splendid and costly costume, gave a great banquet to all his retainers, and bade them make merry, for in an hour's time, he would be off to the wars.
The imperial army was making itself quite at home in Albania. Beautiful scenery and beautiful women smiled upon the victors; there was money also and to spare. And soon came the rumour that a gigantic Tartar host was approaching the Albanian mountains, in number exceeding sixty thousand. The imperial army was no more than nine thousand; but they only laughed at the rumour, they had seen far larger armies fly before them. The pick of the Turkish host, the Spahis, the Janissaries, had cast down their arms before them in thousands; while it was the talk of the bazaars that all that the Tartars were good for was to devastate conquered territory. Besides, reinforcements were expected from Hungary, where the Prince of Baden was encamped beneath Nándor-Fehérvár with a numerous army.
The leader of the Albanian forces was the Prince of Hanover.
He was a pupil of the lately deceased Piccolomini, and though he inherited his valour he was scarcely his equal in wisdom.
On hearing of the approach of the Tartar army he assembled his captains and held a council of war. The enemy was assumed to be the old mob which used to turn tail at the first cannon-shot, and could not be overtaken because of the superior swiftness of its horses. And indeed it was the old mob, but a new spirit now inspired it; it followed a new leader whom the enemy had never put to flight or beaten, and that leader was Feriz Beg.
Tököly's letter had speedily brought the young hero all the way from Syria to Stambul to offer his sword and his genius to the new Sultan, and the Sultan had charged him to lead the Tartar hordes against the imperial army.
When Feriz, from the top of a hill, saw the forces of the Prince of Hanover all wedged together in a compact mass on the plain before him like a huge living machine only awaiting a propelling hand to set it in motion, he quickly sent the Tartars who were with him back into the fir-woods that they might well cover their darts with the tar and turpentine exuding from the trees, and this done, he sent them to gallop round the Prince's camp and take up their position well within range.
The Prince observed the movement but left them alone; oftentimes had the Turks attempted a simple assault upon the German camp; oftentimes had their threefold superior forces surrounded the small, well-ordered camp and assaulted it from every side, and the Germans used always politely to allow them to come within range of their guns and then discharge all their artillery at once—and generally that was the end of the whole affair.